


Spiran Caf

by RoninReverie



Series: Old Kanera Fanfiction [2]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Hakko Drazlip and the Tootle Froots, Honeymoon, caf, rion - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2019-04-26 05:03:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14394870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoninReverie/pseuds/RoninReverie
Summary: A prospective rebel candidate is said to be visiting the moons of Rion, and Hera wants to recruit them. She and Kanan must go undercover as newlyweds in order to blend in on the luxurious planet long enough to find their target.





	Spiran Caf

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr: [Link!](http://roninreverie.tumblr.com/post/136671489684/spiran-caf)
> 
>  **IMPORTANT!** This series was written before the second half of season 2 aired on television, so all content is based on my headcanons after season 1 and the "A New Dawn" novel.
> 
> There are obscure Star Wars references in each chapter though, if any hardcore fans want to try and find them!

“I can’t believe that you got us such a nice room?” Hera gasped.

Kanan hugged her close, a finger tapping once against her nose.

“Only the best for the best wife in the world!”

She let in a breath, “Oh stop, you’re so embarrassing dear—not in front of the luggage boy!”

Kanan’s look was fierce.

“Let him look!”

“Ahem!” the luggage boy stood at the room with an unfaltering expression. He had seen many a newlywed couple come and go from this hotel. By now, he was immune to their banter.

“Oh right!” Kanan fished through his pockets for a credit and passed one off to the bellboy before swooping Hera up in his arms and carrying her across the threshold of the famed  _‘Honeymoon Suite’_.

She laughed in his arms as the playful noises followed after and the door  _swooshed_  shut behind them.

“Alright,” Hera said bitterly, “Playtime’s over, you can put me down now.”

Kanan rocked her in his arms and teased, “But  _honey-muffin_ —I thought you  _loved_  me?”

She smacked him once in the neck and he set her back to her feet with a laugh.

“Okay…  _One_ , never say that again in my presence…  _Two_ , I need you to set up the scope in the window, and…  _Three—_ _honey-what!?_  I feel sorry for whoever had the patience to fall in love with you.”

“Oh please, I’m charming!” He placed a hand on his heart.

Hera rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, well try to keep your charm in check,” she told, “We’re here to scope out that possible recruit for the  _Ghost._  And this—” She looked around at the room drowning in red and pink hearts and flowers. She gagged a little. “This deplorable hotel room has the best view on all of Rion.”

For Kanan and Hera, it had been one mission after the other. Hera would get the intel, then the two of them would travel around the Outer Rim and surrounding regions to assist people and gather information on the Empire. They robbed stormtroopers, stopped shipments, delivered supplies—you name it. If it involved sticking it to the Imperials and helping the oppressed, then they were already doing it.

So, when Hera finally told Kanan that they would be on a stake-out mission on Rion—he couldn’t say yes fast enough. They had been watching for potential additions to their crew, and Hera had told him that there was someone on the planet who was being watched by Imperial forces. Whoever they were, they sounded interesting enough to scope out  _at least._

In order to blend in, Hera and Kanan were posing as a newlywed couple on their honeymoon— _to which Kanan wasn’t exactly complaining_ —but Hera, of course, thought that it was the stupidest plan that Kanan had ever come up with since she’s known him.

The planet, Rion, was a tropical paradise of a vacation spot with tons of tourism and a lot of traffic. The real hot spots were the twin moons that orbited around the planet. They were equally as impressive, housing the finest hotels, casinos, museums, and some of the most beautiful attractions in the known galaxy. With all that beauty and space—it was the perfect place for couples to come on a romantic getaway. No one would suspect anything.  

“Oh come on!” Kanan laughed, “This place isn’t so bad?” He flopped down on the bed and let out a whoop when the whole thing began to move beneath him.

Hera looked to him with a brow raised, but he only smiled as if it were the coolest thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Waterbed?” He pointed, “This place has everything!”

 _“Kanan…”_  Hera was not about to tell him again.

He groaned loudly and made his way over to the window.

“Fine!” He sighed, “So where are we going to check first?”

“We have this room for one week,” Hera’s being shook at the thought. “That means that we have exactly one week to search Rion and the two moons before heading out.”

“Does that mean we get to have a little fun, while we stay?” Kanan’s brow rose, but he was honestly curious. He and Hera had been travelling together for months now and it has been just work, work, and more work. Kanan’s body ached in places he didn’t even know could ache anymore.

He thought he could use a bit of a vacation for once, but Kanan wasn’t sure if Hera  _ever_  took a vacation. He honestly wasn’t  _100%_  sure that she knew what that word even meant.

Hera turned back to face him. She wasn’t wearing her usual pilot’s uniform, just as he wasn’t wearing his usual green sweater and armored garments. Hera was wearing a long, brown dress with straps that wrapped around her neck and laced down her back. Her helmet and goggles, she traded in for a simple matching head wrap and bracelets for her lekku. She still wore her boots though,  _that much hadn’t changed_. That…and she didn’t have any other shoes and refused to spend any more credits just on clothes she never planned to wear again.

Kanan was disguised in a simple black shirt and an old trench-jacket that he’s stowed away from his time on Gorse. The guy he stole it from seemed pretty fancy, so Kanan only assumed it could play the part for his and Hera’s mission.  _Okay—_ so he didn’t have to dress up as much as Hera, but again— _Kanan wasn’t complaining._

“Well— _dear_ —” Hera said the word with a particular inflection. It wasn’t exactly romantic, but it made Kanan grin anyway. She was so annoyed with this mission that it was almost cute.  _It was entertaining to Kanan at least._  “I hope you have a full evening planned out for us tonight,” she said, “You’ve been to this planet before once—”

“Twice,” Kanan corrected.

Hera growled, “Twice!” She shot him a warning glare and added, “I expect you to know a few good places to check for our possible recruit.”

“Do we even know what they look like?” Kanan threw his hands up into the air. 

It wasn’t the first mission they went on that was more than a little vague with the details. He knew Hera was getting intel on missions and jobs from someone, but he didn’t really care who so long as they got paid and he got to stay with her on the  _Ghost._

Still…this person who was sending them on odd jobs around the galaxy was pressing on his nerves—asking them to do impossible searches with nothing to go on. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack…one of about a million on a farm that specialized in harvesting only stacks of hay and needles! _  
_

“We know that they are on Rion—” Hera informed. “And that the Imperials have a tracker watching them. Seems they’ve made a few political offenses before, but it was nothing big enough to throw them into prison for.”

“Yet…” Kanan rubbed between his eyes, “Just wait until the Imperial Officer gets bored.”

“All the more  _reason—_ ” she hummed, “That we find this guy before they find him first!”

Kanan looked through the scope and grinned. “And I think I know just where to begin our search. Alright wifey—” he ushered her to the telescope, “How would you like to join me for a date night out on the town?”

She looked and saw the location, a large skyscraper of a building with lots of lights and lots of noise coming through every window.

“A club?” She questioned. “Okay, I take it back— you can try and turn up the charm a little.”

Kanan only laughed and motioned with a bow towards the door.

“Adventure awaits us, milady.”

Oh it was going to be one  _long_  week for Hera…

* * *

 

Nothing! One long week of nothing!

Hera and Kanan had been on Rion for so long that even Kanan was starting to get bored with it. He had taken Hera to every club, every restaurant, and every park bench in all of Rion and the twin moons. So far, not a  _single_  person fit the bill, and there wasn’t a single sign of a rebellious influence on this whole vacation planet. People here existed in their own universe, and even if there was a potential rebel here somewhere—they weren’t doing much to get the attention of the Empire—or of Hera and Kanan.

“I can’t believe that this entire trip is turning out to be a waste!” Hera scowled.

“It wasn’t all that bad,” he shrugged, “The dancing and flirting with you is nice.”

Hera shot him a look—not a smile, but not a death stare. It was one of the mannerisms she’d become accustomed to while posing as his wife.

Hera had gotten over her anxiety about the whole  _‘staged couple’_  thing about two days in. She could hold Kanan’s hand, hug his arm, flirt—and it wasn’t as forced as it used to be. She thought this would be the worst week of her life, wasting all this time on this lazy planet looking for a rebel who may or may not even turn up. But with all of that weighing on her mind, she actually admitted to herself that she was having fun spending this time with Kanan.  _She’d never let him know it though or else she’d never hear the end of it._

“Alright,” she huffed, “Where to next?”

Kanan pulled out a crumpled checklist and made his way down the paper.

“Left Moon,” he said. “We haven’t been to the shadowed sector that has all the cafés and bars.”

“Sounds romantic,” she lied.

A whisper from another couple walking past their bench caught both of their attentions.

 _“Look at him,”_  the woman whispered loudly,  _“He should be ashamed—taking advantage of her like that!”_

 _“Twi’lek probably just using him for the free trip,”_  the man said.

Kanan’s fists clenched so hard that Hera heard his knuckles crack. She quickly placed her hands on his until they flattened and he glared daggers at the couple until they were out of sight.

It had been like that all week. Anywhere they went, they were met with comments, most of them crude—all of them expressing some form of criticism for a human and a Twi’lek couple spending their time together on such a refined planet.

Kanan snorted.

“Easy  _luv_ …” Hera calmed. Her touch and her voice was enough to soothe his anger, but still, it was comments like that which made Kanan want to start a fight with someone.

“Stuck-up nerf-herders…”

Hera laughed. 

She didn’t seem offended at all by their comments.  _Of course she wasn’t!_  Kanan thought.  _This was Hera,_  she’s too smart and too strong to let some random opinions slow her down. Kanan loved that about her.

“Well—” she stood and held out a hand, “Let’s go get this over with. Remember, we’re trying to lay low…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know…”

He took her hand and the two walked away. Kanan snuck a look back at more people who were gossiping about them, and  _just to spite them,_  he wrapped an arm around Hera’s shoulders, shooting all of them a particularly nasty grin as he did. His eyes basically  _begged_  the people to say _one_  more word about them to his face.  _However_ , Hera’s soft smile, rolled eyes, and raised brows basically warned them pretty much  _not_  to do that.

* * *

 

The bar was their last stop.  A pretty average cantina for Rion’s taste, but the crowd was good.

As soon as they entered, Hera had to steer Kanan away from nearly three fights due to comments or passes made involving her. It was sweet, but his chivalry was starting to get annoying. If anyone had actually offended her, she would have let them know already—no, these drunks weren’t worth their time. The one who they were looking for wasn’t here.

“Let’s just leave,  _luv…_ ” Hera tugged once on his arm, and Kanan complied with a snarl at a particularly amused Sullustan man, who kept making whipping noises with his mouth. The  _only_  reason he still had both of his arms attached to his body was because of Hera—and to a lesser extent Zaluna. He was a disgrace to her species. Kanan just left it at that.

The two of them waited outside the bar with equal frowns of contempt. Kanan was just plain annoyed, but Hera was aggravated that the mission was still going so poorly on their last night on Rion. As the two thought over what they’ve gathered from today’s ordeals, two Jablogians waddled past them, their voices drunk and anything but hushed.

“What did you hear about the slave trade?” One said wobbly.

Hera stiffened.

The other burped and added, “On Tatooine?” He said, “They’re taking slaves from the dessert and shipping them to Coruscant—or something—I don’t know?”

The Jablogian hiccuped, slobbering as he spoke, “Maybe they’ll have a dancer or two among them?”

“I wouldn’t mind that!” he laughed.

Hera struggled to listen farther, but their warbled conversation drifted away into the many other noises shrouding the streets.

“Kanan!” she smacked her hand against his stomach to get his attention, to which he let out a puff of air and a groan.

“What?” he breathed.

She pointed and took a step towards the street. “Did you hear what those two were saying?”

“What? The drunk Jablogians?” He shrugged, “Who can understand that? They lisp enough as it is without the added drawl.”

“Well, they were talking about a slave trade—one on Tatooine.”

Kanan looked at her and saw that gleam—the determined shine she got in her eyes whenever she was about to run off and do something heroic and poorly thought out.

“No,” he started, “No, no, no, no, no—please tell me that you aren’t thinking, what I think you’re thinking…”

_She was._

“And please tell me that you’re not about to do what I think you’re about to go do…”

_She was._

“Okay, but Hera—” Kanan pleaded, “Think about this for just one minute—”

_She ran off._

“ _A—nd_  there she goes,” he huffed.

Kanan hurried after her and yanked her back around the corner before she could be seen by either of the zig-zag walking Jablogians who tumbled down the block.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She gave him that look.

“Following your orders for once!” he whispered, “You said to lay low, so we’re laying low!”

“You would decide to get like this when it’s my business!” Hera scoffed, “But whenever you feel like making a scene, do I stop you?”

“Yes!” He exclaimed, imploring Hera to listen to reason. “I know you’re curious, but this isn’t the way to go about it! What about the mission?”

“This is more important!” Hera yelled loudly, prompting a look or two from the couples passing by.

A lovely dark-skinned woman brushed between Hera and Kanan. She had curly brown hair and eyes with a mysterious amusement to them when she saw the bickering couple. She carried a quetarra on her back  _despite_  not being a Zabrak, and by her elaborate attire, she must have been a performer for one of the many venues on Rion.

“Lover’s quarrel?” She asked with a wise, yet sensual tone to her voice.

Both Kanan and Hera did not care for her interruption and they barked back at her with a little more aggravation than they should have.

“No!” they shouted.

Hera spoke through gritted teeth that forced a fake smile on her face, “ _Go on and tell her, dear—_ ”

Kanan shot her a glare, but placed his arms around her shoulder and shook her before she could tear his hand away.

“Sorry Layda,” his voice was a pathetic whimper of devotion, one he’d learned to copy from all that time he spent watching Gord and Lal.

Kanan surveyed the words on a nearby billboard and quickly came up with a backstory that he figured an average couple would pick a fight about.

“If I had known the reservations were for the  _Spiral Café_  and not the  _Spiran Café,_ ” he sighed, “I would have asked for directions to the other place. Now we’re lost.”

Hera played along… “You should pay more attention  _luv_ ,” she spoke forgivingly, but Kanan could tell that she was still mad at him for everything else. “I was looking forward to spending my evening with you there…”

Kanan gave her the most dramatic pouty-face that he could make. “Can you ever forgive me?” 

He blinked down at her in a way that made Hera annoyed.

She pinched his cheek a little harder than she made it appear and said, “Of course,  _dear!_ I  _forgive_ you…”

They took each other’s hands reluctantly and returned their attention to the dark-skinned woman, who was a little confused, but gathering facts in her head gradually. She stared at them one after the other and without warning, she started to laugh.

“Small moon,” she clapped. “The Spiran Café is just where my band is heading! It’s a really good restaurant, no reservations needed. I promise you, you will not regret going there—” she pointed, “Come on, you’re not far, just right down the road. I’ll take you there, follow me!”

“Oh— _great—_ ” Hera’s voice lingered.

The quetarra player walked forward and Kanan began walking too, looking back to Hera with a smirk and a shrug. He still held her hand, so Hera was forced to follow him and abandon her lead. The Jablogians were long gone, and she had just lost her next bit of intel.

“So, what’s your name?” Kanan asked.

“I’m Sal,” she smiled, “Sal Kelen. I’m a background singer for Hakko Drazlip and the Tootle Froots.”

Kanan swallowed a laugh, “Great name!”

“I’ll admit,” she rolled her eyes back at them, “It’s a mouthful, but we do a lot of expressive political pieces. There’s a new song we just finished that we’re going to debut tonight. I wrote it myself!”

“We look forward to hearing it then,” Kanan grinned, “Right, Layda?”

“Of course!” Hera lied.

“You two remind me of me and my husband!” She chuckled, and handed them a flat-holo with a picture of a man in a lab and a little girl with big, curly hair. Sal kept talking as they looked to the picture, “They’re on Pasher right now. My husband is an inventor for Kelen Biolabs.”

“You mean the one that makes medicine out of reverse engineered poisons—that Kelen Biolabs?” Hera blinked, “You’re Fayet Kelen’s wife!?”

“I take it you’ve heard of him?” she smiled, “It doesn’t surprise me. The Empire just started paying us for medications and research—I’m afraid Pasher isn’t good for much else, but then again—neither is the Empire, _am I right?_ ” She laughed some more.

Kanan and Hera shot each other a glance.

She stopped mid-laugh and turned, taking back her photo. “Wait, you’re not sympathizers are you?”

“No, no!” Hera shook her words away. “You’re right on the nose!”

“Good!” Mrs. Kelen grinned. She opened the door of the mid-sized café and walked in, flashing an id pass to the two bouncers at the door. “Well, here we are, Spiran Café.” She led Kanan and Hera towards an empty table in the back and practically pushed them into the seats. “Try the caf, it’ll keep you awake!” She winked in a very suggestive way that prompted blushes from both Kanan and Hera.

Sal laughed and waved as she headed towards backstage, her voice trailing behind as she shouted, “Oh, and enjoy your honeymoon! The first fight is always the hardest!”

“Thank you!” Kanan waved, a tad embarrassed now that everyone in the café thought that Hera and Kanan were on their honeymoon,  _and fighting on their honeymoon at that._  That was the plan and all—but Kanan was still uncomfortable with her blurting it out to everyone.

As soon as Sal was out of sight, the false happiness of the so-called  _‘couple’_  vanished, and they were right back to arguing.

“Why did you do that, Kanan!?” She whispered angrily, “They were talking about slave transfer from Tatooine! For all I know, that could have been my—”

“I know!” He took her hand and motioned with the other, “You think I don’t know what that kind of rumor means to you? But, they were drunk, and talking about a transport ship that is nowhere near where we are! Of the thousands of slaves on that planet, I honestly don’t believe they would be talking about a slave directly from Jabba’s Palace—they just don’t do that!”

Hera’s glare softened.

“And to top it all off, Hera—” Kanan pointed as Sal Kelen took the stage with her band to set up their equipment. “I think that,  _that’s_  the woman who we’re supposed to be here to recruit.”

“Sal Kelen?” Hera questioned. “What makes you so sure?”

“She’s strong, spirited, and she doesn’t like the Empire,” He stated, “Call me biased, but that makes a friend in my book any day. She’s the first one on this whole planet who I’ve gotten even the smallest  _hint of a feeling_  for.”

“Oh really?” Hera gave him the look.

 _“Not like that!”_  He groaned, pointing at her, “You know what I meant.”

Hera rubbed her temples.

“Look, there are a lot of good people that agree with our cause, Kanan,” she said. “But that doesn’t make them a fighter.” She pointed, “That woman has a home, a family, and a job that she loves. She wouldn’t risk all of that just to help us.”

“And how do you know?”

Hera rested her head on top of her hands. “I just know.”

As the band started to play, Kanan and Hera received two cups of Spiran Caf, curtesy of none other than Kelen herself. They drank quietly as the lighting dimmed and the music played over people’s conversations in the café.

“If it makes you feel any better—” Kanan said suddenly, “We can head to Tatooine ourselves, check out the scene, and maybe even find your sister. I know a few people in the area— _if they’re still alive?_ ”

“No, Kanan,” Hera spat, “We can’t!”

“Give me one good reason?” He crossed his arms and looked at her.

She couldn’t really say.

“Well?” Kanan persisted.

“I’ll think about it, okay?” Hera said. Her voice wasn’t saying yes, but she didn’t mean no, either. She looked to him with a wrinkle in her nose and added, “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Hey, I’m the husband,” he said with a raise of his glass, “I kind of have to be, right?”

Hera gave him a look, but smiled and tapped her cup against his.

“Whatever you say,  _dear._ ”

Sal took the mic and started talking to the crowd. “This next song is a new one—I hope you  _ALL_  will get a kick out of it! I wrote it for a very special friend over in the Empire—“

“Hera—” Kanan was serious, “We’ve been on sight all week with no leads. I think if we were going to find somebody—we probably would have found them by now…”

Hera thought over all of the facts she had been given. An insider of the rebellion, someone named Fulcrum had been guiding her path since she found the rebels. It was imperative that she not tell Kanan much of anything about their real mission— _not yet_ —but Kanan trusted her judgement with no questions. It was just one of the many little things that Hera liked about him.

One of the other things she liked was how he was normally right about everything. He could see through a ploy, notice if something was going wrong, or even know when something was hopeless—and Hera saw these things too, but she didn’t like to admit they were really there. This wild goose chase for some new rebel—it was a total waste of time.

“Yeah…” was all she replied.

“Wasn’t all bad though,” he nudged her. “It was fun pretending to be married.”

Hera blushed slightly.

“So here it is, a gift from us to you!” Sal’s voice continued over the amplified café. “Hit it boys!”

Mixed applause and negative chatter immersed the crowd as Sal began to play her song, “Vader’s Many Prosthetic Parts”. Kanan and Hera listened to every word of it—and even after she had finished singing, they both could just not stop laughing.

* * *

 

Kanan and Hera spent hours in that café before finally heading towards the  _Ghost._ They sat there and just sort of talked, all the while drinking the satisfying Spiran Caf—even getting some grounds to take back to the ship with them. Since there was no more mission to do, and since they had no new intel on this mysterious recruit—they had the remainder of the evening to just— _relax.  
_

“There is no way!” Kanan laughed.

Hera smiled mischievously at him. “It’s true,” she said, “I once out-drank a Troig.”

He shook his head with the biggest smile on his face. “I don’t believe you.”

“Don’t underestimate me. You aren’t the only one who can hold their liquor.”

“You don’t really strike me as the type?” Kanan smirked.

Hera took his arm, a move that she had been doing for so long to convince the people around Rion that they were a couple. Even though they were leaving, Hera still liked the way his arm felt in hers. It was  _comforting_  somehow.

“Oh, I hate it! It’s repulsive!” She gagged. “But, when you’re trying to win trust and gain information—even the seediest of characters never turn down a free drink—or  _buying_  you—a free drink.”

“Uh-huh…” he rolled his eyes. “Not many people offering to buy me a drink, I’m afraid.” He gasped dramatically, “Maybe I’m not  _pretty_  enough!?”

She punched his arm and the two of them laughed afterwards.

They were walking past a few more buildings before heading to the lot where their ship was parked, and Kanan was getting that uncontrollable feeling that he felt whenever Hera was around him. After all this time on the  _Ghost,_ the feelings faded, but when he saw her like this—it never hesitated to bring them back.

She was happy.  _Genuinely happy._  She only got this way when she was flying the ship, or shooting down Tie-Fighters. Her smile, her laugh— _her eyes_ —it was enough to give Kanan shivers.

“You cold?” she asked. Her voice pierced his heart with the sincerity. He couldn’t handle it—he was about to say something stupid again.

“All this talk of drinking is starting to make me want one,” he lied— _well, half-lied._  “What has it been, maybe six—seven months?”

She hugged tighter to his arm as they walked in silence.

Finally, her soft voice broke the tense air and she said… “I’m glad you stopped.”

Kanan stiffened a little, but Hera continued.

“People who spend all their time drinking to hide the pain, to cover up their reality—” she winked at him, “Well, they aren’t really trying to live at all, are they?”

“G-guess not?” his voice quivered.

Hera pressed her head into his shoulder and he let her arm drop into a hand grip. They had been showing affection and playful touching here and there all week, but this was different. It made Kanan uneasy. He could feel the light brush of her lekku across his back and it made is spine tingle.

“H-Hera,” he fished for words, but his mouth had gone dry. “You feeling alright?”

 _Come to think of it, her head did feel a little warm?_  Kanan worried.  _She wasn’t getting sick, was she?_

“I just realized that we’re finally leaving this place,” she said.

Kanan was relieved that was all… “Finally, right?”

Hera frowned, “Well, I’ll admit it was hard at first, but—now that we’re leaving, I realize all the things we didn’t get to do. I mean, we were playing a devoted married couple all week and it was  _exhausting._  This whole trip, we could have just been hanging out and making use of our downtime—that’s so rare to come by these days, don’t you think?”

Kanan nodded.  _So she did know how to relax after all?_

“Still, I had fun—all things considered,” she smirked. “Perhaps you do know how to show a girl a good time?”

Kanan swallowed.

“It was nice being married to you too—” Her voice was gentle and sincere before returning to that normal mocking tone it made. “For a little while, at least…”

Kanan thought his entire face was about to implode. To cope with the feeling he began to laugh moronically. He could feel the sweat already, he had to defend himself  _against himself_  or he wasn’t going to survive this.

“W-Well maybe we can do it again sometime?” He wasn’t sure what he was saying, but he let the words happen anyway.

Hera laughed at him, her demeanor returning to normal as the platform ramp came down from the  _Ghost_.

“In your dreams!” She made her way up the ramp and motioned for him to follow. “Well come on, Kanan, this ships not going to fly itself.”

He wanted to follow, but he wasn’t sure he remembered how to walk.

Did Hera just— _flirt_ —at him? Kanan’s mind buzzed for a few moments, hoping that he hadn’t just imagined that whole interaction.  _Was that what Hera sounded like when she was flirting_ —or did Kanan just read too much into it?

Her hand slid into his own and he unfroze instantly. She was halfway on the ramp, so their gaze was level to level. The light from the moon of Rion shined in her green eyes and Kanan’s heart raced so rapidly that he hoped Hera couldn’t somehow feel it beating through his hand.

“You know it can’t be like this while we’re fighting a war—” she spoke. Her eyes were apologetic, but her voice was just as remorseful. She was sorry for what she was doing to Kanan, and sorry that she had not stopped herself sooner. “As soon as we get back in the air,” she informed softly, “This mission is over and everything goes back to the way it was—that was the deal…”

“I know,” he said. His voice wasn’t flat because it was so obviously filled with emotions, but it came out so normally that it was almost painful to listen to.

They suffered through such emotional detachment—they had lived this way for months—why was it becoming such a big issue for them now? Nothing was different.  _What was different?_

Kanan had liked her since day one, and she knew it. She knew it, but she didn’t feel that way—never felt that way—not even here, surrounded by all these romantic things and the way the air felt—she tried not to—she knew better, and she didn’t want that. She had never wanted that before. _So what was all that?_ She thought.  _That was cruel teasing, that’s what that was._  She believed that this long week of acting had permanently scarred her—and yet— _Hera wasn’t complaining._

She bit her lip and took a step towards him.

“But—just this once—” her voice was hushed.

Kanan watched as her eyes studied his. He could feel her warm breath on his face, and the chilled goosebumps climbing up his arms. _What was this feeling?_  He dared not move, he couldn’t breathe, and he couldn’t watch. Every alarm in his body was ringing, but he couldn’t find the escape.

Hera’s stomach flipped.  _Why was he just standing there?_  Why had he shut his eyes? Oh, she felt terrible—he was being so supportive of her dreams— _why did he have to do that?_  Hera hated the fact that she loved that. Why was she doing this to him?

Their faces were closer than they normally were to one another. She had never seen Kanan from this angle before. Hera’s throat closed.

Unable to bear the stillness, Kanan’s lips parted to say something, but he never got the words to come out. As soon as she felt his breath hit her face, she took it as the gunshot to move. She let her face fall into his, and she couldn’t bear to watch. There was a strange tickle in her heart, it was tugging at her to get closer, but their mouths had already connected— _how much closer could she get?_

 _What—in the name—of the Force—was happening right now?_ Kanan’s mind was stuck. Was she kissing him? Was this happening right now? It felt like it was happening, but then again, Kanan’s face was so numb that he couldn’t make out what he thought from what he felt.

He felt the breath, he felt the contact, and he even felt the hesitation. Nothing on his body worked anymore—this wasn’t his first kiss— _but then again,_  he had never had a kiss like this before. Kanan couldn’t feel his fingers, but his hands came up anyway, almost instinctually, and he held her back, pushing her closer— _she needed to be closer somehow._

Hera had never thought that this would be what kissing felt like. It was odd—enjoyable—but odd. She never saw herself kissing anyone before, so she had half a mind to assume that contact with another person’s lips would have stolen the life straight from her body. She wasn’t really sure how to stop the kiss either? She hadn’t thought that far. _Oh God!_  She thought. She was going to be stuck like this forever!

She felt his hands at her back and that string on her heart settled as his chest met hers. Her mind calmed down instantly. And when his hand came up to cradle her neck—she stopped thinking altogether.

He tasted like Spiran Caf.

She tasted like Spiran Caf.

Then it ended.

Both of their eyes shot wide as they broke away from one another like opposing magnets. Neither of them knew what to say for the longest while.

It was Kanan who spoke first, he still couldn’t remember how to make his face blink.

“So…” he stretched his voice until it returned to the pitch it was supposed to be. “Long flight out—you want me to make some of this Caf?” He held up the bag and shook it around a little.

Hera blinked once,  _hard,_  before remembering what a bag of Caf looked like.

“Sounds good,” her voice was normal. She was surprised he hadn’t stolen it from her. She used it again. “I’ll get us in the air.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” she said back.

Hera was the first to move, and she turned, walking almost robotically up the platform and into the cockpit of the  _Ghost._

“Hey Hera!” Kanan’s voice echoed throughout the ship.

“Yeah?” She shouted back.

“That was a good mission,” he hollered.

Hera touched her lip with the tip of her finger and smiled, “Yeah…”

“You mind if I add sugar or something to this?” He still was talking across the ship. “It’ll taste more like it did at the café—but we don’t have everything they blended into ours.”

Hera forgot that Kanan used to work as a bartender sometimes on Gorse at Okadiah’s place. Whatever he did, Hera was sure it would be fine.

“Do whatever you want!” she said, their ship rising and taking off into the black void of space.

Kanan returned with what was probably their seventh cup of Caf, and he handed her the mug before taking his place in the co-pilot’s chair.

Hera took a sip.

“Good?” Kanan asked.

It was. She showed him that warm smile again. 

“Better!”

Kanan smiled proudly and drank.

“Don’t let it go to your head!” Hera snapped, “It’s big enough as it is!”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “You’re one to talk!”

She glared at him, but then looked back to the stars. That wasn’t so bad after all. They were  _different_  now—but the same still. It wasn’t the end of the world, nothing bad happened, and nothing ended. _It was nice_. That first kiss was really just something nice—and Hera was happy that she was able to share these memories of Rion with Kanan. 

“Hey Hera?”

“Yes  _dear_?” She didn’t mean to still call him dear, but the term kind of stuck.

“Let’s pretend to be married again sometime,” he gave her his look that he liked to give her. “It was  _nice_ …”

She mulled it over and made the jump into light speed with an amused hum in her voice…

_“I’ll think about it.”_

Hey—at least it wasn’t a no?


End file.
